


On the Corner of Sixth and Seville

by myadamantiumheart



Series: Sixth and Seville [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prostitute AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myadamantiumheart/pseuds/myadamantiumheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first Jason's just this prostitute that Tim keeps running into onto patrol. Until he's not. (AU where Jay is a prostitute and Tim is the 2nd Robin, now Red Robin at 19.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Corner of Sixth and Seville

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissjuliaMiriam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/gifts).



When Tim finally turns around after neutralizing (brutalizing) the abusive pimp, the first thing he sees is a pair of ratty old converse hightops. They merge into long legs, encased in ridiculously tight jeans, which, in turn, blossom up into a tight, tanned abdomen and two open, hanging sides of a zip up leather vest.

There’s no shirt under the vest, nothing but muscles and skin and a few scratch marks and scars, and then a face that smirks out at him from under a shaggy fringe of black hair, a curious strip of white in the man’s bangs.

“Well aren’t you just a boy’s best friend, baby doll,” the man purrs, stalking forward from his place leaning against the wall, cocking his hip and leering down at Tim when he makes it to the edge of the two foot perimeter of blood spatters around Tim. Tim raised an eyebrow, tapping his bo until it sheathed itself and he could replace it in his belt. He tried to control the flush that spread across his cheekbones as he shifted to let his cape fall around his body and hide him from the lascivious gaze of the man (prostitute) before him. “Aw, don’t be  _shy_ ,” the man reached forward, and Tim felt frozen when he brushed a thumb across one of Tim’s reddened cheeks. “You’re pretty hot underneath all that spandex, Princess.”

“I am not a  _woman_ ,” Tim said stiffly, stepping back and turning, hooking a hand around his grappling line as he scanned the area for a fire escape to hop up.

“Well that much is obvious,” the man laughed, stepping forward again, and again, his hand resting on Tim’s shoulder as he tugged Tim right around to face him again. “But you certainly are a princess, hmm? Look at that, your little lips all red, your cute little blush… I’ve bet you’ve got fuckin’ unfair eyelashes too, to go with those perfect white teeth and your pale complexion.” His breath washed across Tim’s face, the smell of cinnamon and tea tree oil toothpicks, Tim’s eyes wide behind his mask and his hands clenched tight on his equipment. “And you saved my tight ass too.”

“That’s my  _job_ ,” Tim muttered, leaning back, his eyes darting furiously around as he tried to escape the teal gaze before him. He could just neutralize the prostitute, but he didn’t want to hurt the very man he’d just saved, and- oh. That was- those were lips on his cheek and the man was kissing him, he was kissing his cheek and his stubble was scraping across Tim’s jaw and he smelled very nice and a lot like sex, like that one time Tim and Stephanie had left the window closed while they were fooling around, and- 

Tim was stumbling away as quickly as possible, fairly leaping up onto the fire escape and flipping his way up towards the rooftop, the man’s laugh echoing around the alleyway behind him.

“Until later, Princess!” he called, and Tim just faintly caught the parting words as he grappled his way towards to other side of Gotham, his cheeks burning cerise through the night.

\----

The second time Tim meets the prostitute, he’s saving another one from bleeding out from a cut that a pimp (who is lying unconscious and broken at the end of the alleyway) inflicted upon her. He finishes the sutures, pops her a pack of ibuprofen and a prescription slip for a visit with Leslie from his pouch, and stands up, slipping the materials he’s just used back into a sterile pouch where they will be disinfected by a built in UV light. He helps her up, he calls her a cab, he slips the cab the untraceable card to swipe, and she’s off to the clinic before the prostitute has a chance to speak to him.

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man says from behind him. Tim can’t tell if that leer is always in his voice, or just when he’s talking to Tim- after all, he hasn’t had the chance (nor the inclination, considering how disconcerting he thought the prickly arousal in his belly was every time he thought of the man) to look him up. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” he says flatly, turning to face Jason. The man’s in a ridiculous pair of daisy duke jeans, his bare legs hanging out, muscled and smooth (Tim briefly wonders if he waxes before he slaps himself mentally for the question). His chest is covered tonight, just barely, a mesh top letting plenty of snatches of skin show as it’s pressed flat against prominent pecs by the hot summer wind. Those high tops are still there, though, strings raggedy and hanging down past his heel as he steps forward, catching his hand on the edge of Tim’s belt and tugging him forward.

“You’re a regular grumpy little guardian angel around here, aren’t you?” Jason murmured, his grin gleaming with shark’s teeth and wolf hunger. Tim glared at him, furrowing his brow enough that Jason would be able to see it even with the mask on.

“What do you want,  _Jason_?” He tried to step back, but Jason followed him, his smirk widening.

“I just wanna  _talk_  to you, pretty bird.” Jason leaned in even closer, his breath swallowing up Tim’s senses again. (What was it about this guy that just froze Tim in place, like Mr. Freeze had been on a rampage and Captain Cold was in his muscles?) “You’re such a cutie, I’m just wonderin’ how you ended up as the Bat’s little virgin sidekick?” He laughed out loud when Tim sputtered at that, tapping his thumb across Tim’s lower lip. “Oh, don’t try to deny it, baby boy. I can tell it in the way you hold your  _body_ ,” Jason’s voice dipped lower, his hand sliding beneath the cape to slide down Tim’s spine and bring him flush against the other man. Tim yelped, and Jason’s chuckle reverberated through the body armor.

“Nobody’s ever touched you, huh?” His fingers slid even lower, pressing against Tim’s ass through his pants, and Tim bucked forward. “But I bet they all think about it,” the man continued, his voice almost hypnotizing- and Tim found that even though he knew at least thirty-two ways to get out of the situation, he just- he just couldn’t. His breath came heavier and heavier until he was panting. “I bet they see those fuckin’ pretty little red lips of yours and just wanna slide their cock between them, huh, baby boy? Just wanna  _fuck_  that beautiful little mouth until you’re comin’ in your jock without even touchin’ ya.” Tim shuddered as Jason’s teeth edged against his ear, against the metal of the comm link, and he jerked back, shoving at Jason’s chest until he was standing a foot away, staring up at the leering man and aching for breath (aching for touch, aching for-). His hips were cocked forward, half a hard-on pushing against the fly of the daisy dukes.

“That isn’t talking,” Tim sputtered out. “That’s  _molesting_.” Jason shrugged, unconcerned, leaning against the wall again.

“I dunno, dollface, seemed to me like you were liking our little conversation.” He nodded towards Tim’s groin, and Tim set his shoulders, ignoring the man’s laughter when he unhooked his grapple gun and stalked towards the fire escape.

Tim doesn’t dignify that with a response, but Jason’s voice reverberates through his dreams for the next week.

\----

Over the next few months, Jason pops up all along Red Robin’s stroll- all along the haunts where he beats up pimps and stitches up girls and pretends not to notice adam’s apples and amiably takes their ribbing and general goodnatured teasing. He takes care of the girls on his side of the street, and he’s quite a decent fighter in his own right. He’s got an apartment a couple of streets over from the corners Tim finds him on most often, and one time Tim even stops by the apartment to check on him, landing silently on the fire escape and peering through the window to see the man baking in just an apron and boxer briefs, pulling a batch of muffins from the oven with a deft hand and a paisley oven mitt.

The next day when he passes over the apartment building, there’s a little tupperware with cookies and condoms in it and a sticky note that says ‘the cookies are for you ‘cause you’re sweet and the condoms are for that Nightwing guy ‘cause he’s a whore’.

When he asks Jason about it the next time he sees him, Jason blows it off, but he catches him muttering about all the times he’s seen Nightwing having a little roof-top macking session a few days later and Jason really can’t deny that the box on his apartment’s fire escape was, in fact, his, especially after Tim replaces the tupperware with its matching partners in Jason’s cupboard one evening.

One day, months later, Dick even asks him if Jason’s stopped trying to get into his pants, and Tim realizes something.

Jason really hasn’t stopped trying to get into Tim’s pants- Tim’s just gotten used to it, is all. He’s gotten used to fingers sneaking beneath his cape and laughter in teal eyes and a shit-eating grin pressed against his cheek when he’s too tired to smack Jason on the shoulder after patrol, when Jason’s invited him in for coffee and he needs the caffeine so badly he accepts.

And it isn’t until the seventh month that they’ve known each other that Jason’s flirting finally breaks through.

\----

Tim’s at a club, undercover, and he’s plastered on a lipstick smile over his inner grimace because Dick is also there, and, to his dismay, so is Jason.

Dick’s entrance was planned, they showed up together in a silver car, Tim’s red fuck-me stilettos precluding the slide of his smooth, bare leg out of the car door, followed by swaying hips encased in lacy red, the barest hint of burgundy underwear peeking in the lace’s holes as he rolls himself up into a sylph-like pose against Dick’s side, his hair swept across his face and his eyes smoky, seductive. He’s clearly fooled most of the club, the small false breasts beneath his lace dress bouncing realistically as he rolls his hips on the dance floor, ass grinding back into Dick’s thigh as the older man pretends to be engrossed in his partner, letting Oracle use his contact lens camera to take in the surroundings.

Their reconnaissance goes just fine until Dick leaves to get a drink, and suddenly Tim is ass-to-groin with someone very different (and very, very familiar).

“Fancy seein’ you here, Princess,” Jason’s voice rumbles across his neck, his hands sliding to splay across Tim’s hips, large enough to cover almost all of his stomach as well. Tim starts, but Jason’s grin presses to the crook of his throat and he fairly melts back against the man when a calloused thumb rubs across his lower stomach.

“Jason,” he murmurs, hisses, tries to make it look like he’s not enjoying the dance. “I’m here on a recon mission.”

“Well let me help you blend in, then,” Jason purrs, and Tim finds himself with a hand pressed to the v of his panties, right over his cock where it’s tucked in the gaff, and a thigh between his legs as Jason’s mouth latches over his pulse and he’s rendered entirely useless. His hips are moving without his consent, Jason’s fingers kneading and rubbing and Tim’s going to have an erection in these panties and where, where is Dick?

Before the erection shows, though, Jason’s spinning him up against his front, fake breasts pressed tightly to Jason’s chest and muscular thigh pressed tight against his cock.

“Oh, you are such a tease,” Jason growls, nipping at Tim’s neck and swallowing up his gasps when he catches Tim’s lower lip between his teeth. “C’mon, baby, that’s right, just ride my thigh a little bit-”

“Jason-” he stumbles over his breaths, chest stuttering when Jason’s large hand cups his ass and brings him up even harder against the other man.

“God but you’re beautiful,” cinnamon breath in his mouth before he’s kissing Jason, before Jason’s breathing into him, panting against his mouth and murmuring fervent praise, encouraging him to rock his hips faster, to let the pleasure build up a slow burn until Tim thinks he might just come in his panties. His nose rubs across Jason’s cheekbone, and-

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s jerked away from Jason’s heat, another hand clamping down on his bicep when he reaches out instinctively for the other man. Dick’s anger practically forms a bubble around them, people giving them a wide berth as he growls over Tim’s shoulder.

“What are you  _doing_ , Tim?” he hisses, tugging Tim backwards until he manages to turn around, looking over his shoulder at Jason and watching helplessly as anger writhes across his features and he makes to follow them. Even though Tim’s gesturing for him to let it go, less than thirty seconds later finds them in the shadows on the side of the club, Dick’s eyes narrowed on him and Jason sliding out the door into the middle of their conversation.

“Who  _was_  that?” Dick’s in the middle of asking when Jason’s hand brushing against Tim’s hand and he wraps  his fingers around Tim’s wrist.

“I’m Jason,” he says, thumb rubbing across Tim’s pulse. Dick stares at him, then back at Tim.

“ _This_  asshole is  _Jason_?” Tim glares at Dick, his shoulders raised up as he leans unconsciously towards Jason.

“He’s not an asshole, Dick. Seriously.”

“Nah, I kinda am, Princess,” Jason deadpans, half laughing at the end as he cocks his hip out and grins at Dick. “But I know you love it.” Dick scowls.

“You’ve got no right to be all over my little brother like that-” he tries. (Jason’s not having it.)

“Not so little, is he?” Jason leered. “I’d wager he’s old enough to make his own decisions about whose lap he climbs into at the club.” And though Dick’s anger is palpable, seeping through Tim’s bones, he steps forward and places his free hand on Dick’s chest.

“I’m nineteen, Dick.” Tim murmurs, looking at Dick with earnest eyes, and he knows he’s won when Dick takes a step back and digs the car keys from his ridiculously tight jeans. Dick sighs, grinning sheepishly and flicking something at Jason before he leans in and kisses Tim’s cheek.

“At least he’s not Deathstroke,” and Dick’s walking away, clicking the car keys to unlock it, flicking a salute over his shoulder at them as he drives away from the club.

“He’s unbelievable,” Jason mutters, leaning against Tim and flipping the package in his hand upwards so Tim can see it. It’s a strip of six condoms (Ribbed, for Her Pleasure, the packaging proclaims).

“He really is,” Tim chokes out, stepping away and tugging the hem of his dress down, his cheeks finally flaring now that he’s realizing what he’s wearing. Here. In front of Jason. “And he was also my ride, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just- I’ve got to-”

“What, we’re not gonna do this?” Jason gestures between them, reaching to catch his hand again.

“Do what, Jason?” Tim’s flushing deeper now, looking down the alley towards the street, and he’s- Jason’s really very close to him, his heat washing down Tim’s body like a lantern setting him alight.

“Do  _you_ , baby boy,” He grins, kissing Tim’s nose as his fingers trail down to grasp at Tim’s waist. “Lay you out on my bed, make ya make all those cute little noises for me.” He pulled Tim flush against him. “Make ya all sweaty and dirty and ruffle all those pretty feathers of yours.”   
  
And that’s how they end up here, Tim’s stilettos on the floor and his dress hanging across the doorknob and his hands tearing at the sheets as he tries to turn his neck enough to muffle his keening whimpers in Jason’s pillows. His panties aren’t even off yet, but Jason's tugged them down just enough to free his cock part way and let the head pop out past the scratchy lace waistband. And he’s sucking at it, letting his teeth tap it lightly, slipping his tongue into the slit and teasing it until Tim’s hips are bucking upwards involuntarily and all he wants is to tangle his fingers in Jason’s hair untli Jason just pulls the goddamn panties off.

“Ooh, you’re so  _eager_ ,” Jason mumbles against his hip, grinning lust drunkenly at Tim.

“Fuck you,” Tim manages to pant out, rocking his hips upwards like it’ll get him some friction. All it gets him is flipped over, his ass bared and Jason’s palm slapping down across his ass and sending sparks up his spine.

“Oh, that was a pretty noise,” Jason murmurs, biting at Tim’s shoulder and watching him cry out into the duvet when he spanks him hard again, the skin pinking and Tim’s hips writhing like he can’t decide if he wants more or if he wants to get away. “Aw, baby, it’s okay to want it,” He whispers, rubbing his hand across the pinking skin and slapping it hard enough to sting his own hand. “C’mon, let me hear it, let me hear all those little sounds-” Tim’s mouth is red and spit-slick where it raises from the pillow to cry out desperately, his cock rubbing hard against the bed when Jason speeds up and hits his sweet spot and holds it there, hitting at just the right angle to spike pleasure hot and aching through Tim’s stomach.

“No, just- J-jason, I’m gonna _come_ -” Tim moans, breathless, and Jason slows, stops, tugs at Tim’s leg until he’s on his back again and Jason can slip fingers down, can slip fingers between, can slip and slide and lube his hot, clenching hole up. Can swallow those moans and keens and wails and press his finger to Tim’s prostate until his cock is slippery wet with precome. He presses his hand to it, presses it back against Tim’s stomach and just slides his hand a little along the slick, enjoying the feel and the jerk of Tim’s hips at the contact.

Tim’s sort of ridiculously beautiful, like this, spread out and lust drunk and fuck drunk and doped up on pleasure, his pupils dilated and his breath heavy and his hair mussed, his cheeks red and his lips swollen and his legs shaking each time Jason presses his prostate.

And when he finally slides in, the crooning sounds the reverberate from Tim’s throat are enough to make Jason groan and bite down on his shoulder, suck red marks into his collarbone and thrust, thrust and fuck Tim hard enough that his moans come out chopped up and broken by the hit of Jason’s cock along Tim’s sweet spot.

And oh, baby, oh,  _baby_ , how Tim gives it  _up_. Sweet and trembling, hot and slick, spilling between them and curling against Jason, panting and heaving and letting Jason drink from the sugar of his mouth where it forms the older man’s name. He can’t handle the clenching, the whines when Tim writhes under his thrusts, so oversensitive, and he comes with Tim’s name like a prayer, singing across his nerves and out his throat as a bird taking flight.  
  
And in the morning, Tim’s still there and Jason’s still there, and the evidence of rounds two through four are also there in the bed with them, the fuzzy handcuffs and the flavored lube and maybe they even used one of the ribbed condoms, but they’re never gonna admit it to Dick, that’s for sure.


End file.
